I Shall Believe
by Sapphira2
Summary: “When one chapter ends, another begins… A combined destiny unfolds as a restrained passion is finally unleashed.”… Takes place the night following the trial… Chapter Seven has been posted!
1. Chapter One

**_"I Shall Believe"_**

**Part One of Two**

**written**** by Sapphira**

**Short Story Based on the WB TV Series "Tarzan"**

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**Disclaimer: **Don't own any of it… not the characters, the music, or the TV series in any form… I am making no profit off of this, or ANY of my other fanfics… I'm writing it purely for my own enjoyment, and hopefully for the enjoyment of some of the fellow fans.

**Distribution: **If you want it, you can have it… just drop me a line and tell me where it is going… ;)****

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AN – Hey everybody! Remember me? Most of you will recognize me as the author of the Reflections series. One thing I want to make clear is that this story has nothing to do with that series. Not officially, anyway. (wink) "Reflections" is completed in its entirety, so now I'm moving on to continuations and AUs where I can finally call the shots. (wink) 

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**Summary **– "When one chapter ends, another begins… A combined destiny unfolds as a restrained passion is finally unleashed."… Takes place the night following the trial…

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**_Part One, Chapter One _**

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Jane knelt and turned the water off. Halting the flow pouring from the showerhead above her and plunging her bathroom into silence. Wringing the worst of the water out of her hair, she pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out onto the damp fuzzy matt. 

Her head had been pounding most of the day, so even though it had abated some by the time she had entered her bathroom, she hadn't wanted it to start all over again by turning on the harsh lighting of the small enclosure. So, as an alternative, she had lit a couple of fragrant candles that Nikki had given her a while back as part of a birthday gift. Her, someone who had always been so cautious about having open flames in her apartment, couldn't even find it within herself to care about having balanced those unguarded candles on the edge of her small sink.

The last remnants of her headache had thankfully dissipated, but as relaxed as her mind had finally become, she didn't bother turning the main lights on in the bathroom. She pulled on her light weight blue terrycloth robe, and gently blew out the twin flames. Making her way out of the bathroom in the semi-darkness.

A soft golden glow emanated from one corner of her bedroom, where she had turned on a small glass lantern resting on an end table. Other than the faint aura of light peeking through her curtain from the surrounding city, it was the only light source in the room. But it was enough for her to be able to make it over to her dresser. Thunder rolled outside in accompaniment to the rain she could hear pounding against her window panes. The sound almost comforting in a strange way.

This had been a day to end all days. It had, in turns, been both nerve wracking and exhilarating. Frightening and joyous. It was not a day she ever cared to relive. But it had ended well. Richard Clayton had lost the first major battle. John was free of the murder charges that had plagued him, and by his cooperation earlier in court he had proven that he was not mentally unstable. The very fact that his uncle had tried to make it seem like he was, was just one of the little things that would help them in the custody hearing in another month. Him flat-lining while in his uncle's care would be another one.

But in the meantime, her and Kathleen would do whatever they had to, to prove that in that month's span of time that John had learned more under his aunt's care than he ever had in the six months with his uncle.

Jane was also going to have to figure out what awaited her back at the Precinct… but not tonight. Tonight marked the end to the events of the past few months, and she was more than willing to leave it at that. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. This past week had been unbelievably stressful, and she didn't even want to guess at how many of those hours had been spent on absolutely no sleep… But at least it was over. For now.

For now she could breathe without the fear that the entire world wasn't going to come crashing down around her all at once. At least now she wouldn't have to endure how her heart had jumped every time the phone rang late at night, for fear that something had happened to John. 

Picking up her comb, she began to comb through her mass of damp hair. Knowing that if she didn't, it would be a tangled mess come morning. 

She watched herself in the mirror, as she ran the comb through the curling strands. The repetitive and simple action almost soothing. She studied her profile. Noticing the slight hollows under her eyes, and the slightly paler than normal contrast to her skin. But she also noticed other things. Things that she had never before noticed about herself… till she had seen John noticing them in her.

Blinking at her reflection in reaction to that thought, her hand stilled, and then finally dropped. Placing the comb back on the countertop. She braced both of her palms there against the smooth wooden edge, and looked closer at her image reflecting back to her. Thoughts filled her mind, primarily about John. Some about Michael. And then they were just about why it was because of John's attention that she finally saw things about herself, things that Michael's similar attraction hadn't pointed out before… And why that thought filled her with such a sense of guilt. 

Dropping her head, she stared at the pattern in the wood beneath her palms till it began to blur slightly… and then she closed her eyes against the pressure she could feel just behind them. She wasn't going to cry. Not again. She had spent her last tears on the events of the past. Events that she couldn't change no matter how she may have wished she could.

Jane stayed like that for a moment, till the threat of tears had receded like some half forgotten dream. Only then did she let out the breath she had been holding in an audible sigh. Only then did she pick her head back up, opening her eyes to face her reflection in the mirror…

And met a pair of startlingly blue eyes the color of watered down sapphires in the mirror with her own dark ones.

~*~


	2. Chapter Two

**_Part One, Chapter Two_**

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Her heartbeat picked up speed, but not from being startled. Distantly, she knew she should have been. She should have been chastising him for his sudden appearance behind her. He moved so quietly, and had probably been in her bedroom this entire time, shrouded in its deepening shadows, but he had also become such a part of her life over the last few months. She was starting to believe that there was a hidden part of herself that always knew when he was close, sensed his nearness. It had gotten to the point where she was so used to him being there, being a part of her life, that it was noticeably lacking when he wasn't. Like a part of her was spending the moments while they were apart, waiting for him to come. 

She turned to face him, his name on her lips. He stood on the other side of the room hesitantly. His clothes and hair wet from the rain outside. His eyes lost in the shadows tracing over his features. It took her a moment to find her voice. It usually did when he appeared to her like this. 

"John, what are you doing here?" Oh, she hoped her words didn't sound as conflicted as she was feeling. She was alternating between pleasure at seeing him, and the defensiveness that the same pleasure had sparked. 

And there was fear. More than a little bit of fear. The very idea that merely seeing him could do this to her was frightening. She didn't want to need something – no, someone – so much that it could have this kind of effect on her.

But if there was one thing that having John in her life had taught her, was that there were some things that you just didn't get a choice about. 

His answer was slow in coming. His tone hesitant. "I'm not sure. I couldn't sleep, so I went to the rooftops of the city… And then the storm came." As if to accentuate his words, muted thunder rolled in the distance as the rain picked up speed. His eyes strayed over to the window for a moment, before coming back to rest on her. Brow furrowed slightly as if he was confused about something. "I didn't know where else to go."

There were a half a dozen different things that she could have told him in that moment. One, that he actually did have a home to go to, a home that he shared with his aunt. Two, it was late, and he shouldn't be here. Three, what was he even doing out at this hour of night after the day – no, make that week – they had had, although she really already knew the answer to that one. 

But, looking at him, there were other things that she suddenly knew. Things that she wouldn't have known if it hadn't been the events of said week. 

He wanted to be close to her. He needed to be. That was what had brought him to her tonight. He had done this almost every night since their first encounter several months ago, whether she had known it then or not, but tonight was different in a way than all those previously. The fact that it had begun to rain was just a coincidence that had pushed him to actually seek shelter in her bedroom.

After what had happened recently; the multiple attacks on her person, and the abuse he had just a couple of days ago been forced to endure, it was only natural the he would want to come to her. Granted, he may have come to care deeply for his aunt. But them… they'd been through hell and back together, and it would have been a lie if she didn't admit to herself that there was a part of her that wanted – and quite possibly needed – to be with him too. 

Spending those few days with him in the wilderness had forced her to change her view of him. Up until then, she had been able to keep him inside that little box firmly labeled 'innocent' and therefore off limits. But she had seen a side to him then… no, not a side; She had finally seen **_him. _**Amazing how it had taken her to this moment to finally figure that difference out. He wasn't innocent. Or at least not in the ways she had tried to make him out to be. He was a man that had been forged in the fires of a hell that had broken countless others. He had survived in a violent world not meant for humans, and he had claimed that world as his own.

And she knew then that he would do it again. She could see it in the lines of his face and the look now in his eyes. That previous night out at the train tracks had been the turning point. He had made his choice then when he had pulled back from killing his uncle. He had made the choice between the world he had known for most of his feral life, and the one that he had been brought to. He had made a choice between the primal instincts honed under the jungle canopy, and a future with her. 

He had made the same choice that he had made when he was a boy. A young boy stranded in the jungle with the blood of both of his parents still on his tiny body. He had chosen to live. To learn. To survive.

And he would, she realized. She knew he would. It would be a long, hard process, but when the day finally arrived that it all came full circle for John, Jane had a sinking suspicion that Richard wouldn't know what hit him.

~*~ 


	3. Chapter Three

**_Part One, Chapter Three_**

Looking closer at him, her expression softened when she took in the slight shivers running up his soaked body. She knew then that she wasn't going to turn him away. He needed to be close to her, and despite how it was going against all the 'rules' she had tried to set up, she wasn't going to make him leave. 

Maybe because in a way, she realized that she needed him, too.

Shaking her head slightly, she turned and walked back to the bathroom to fetch a towel. She came out with one firmly grasped in her hand, and made her way towards him. Bare feet sinking into the pale carpet beneath her. 

"It's way too cold this time of year for you to be wandering around the city without any protective clothing. I know that while in the jungle you didn't have to worry about pneumonia, but trust me… you keep this up you're going to find out what that means."

Letting the folded edges fall through her fingers till it was loose in her hands, she swung it over his head and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Letting it rest there as she grasped its edges and worked them against the wet strands that brushed his shoulders.

"You could use my shower if you like." She offered. Absorbing herself in the task of getting the ends of his hair dry. "I didn't use up all of the hot water."

"I bathed earlier after leaving the courthouse." A look crossed his features. "I didn't care for the smell of so many strangers on my skin."

Jane's brow rose slightly at that comment, but she let it slide. Besides, she was pretty sure that the major 'scent' that had disgusted him was the after effect of being in the same room as his uncle for so many hours. How many times has she seen victims of some sort of abuse do likewise after being in the presence of their abusers? Even in a controlled environment such as a courtroom?

Her hands in his hair stilled and she stepped back reluctantly. Leaving the towel on his shoulders. He had to reach up with his own hands to keep it from falling off. Taking over her ministrations with his own as he worked the towel through his mass of hair, all the while watching her carefully as she moved over to the dresser.

Opening the bottom drawer, she fished around in it for a moment till she located a pair of dark sweatpants. These, however, had never belonged to Michael. She had bought them a couple of weeks ago, when it had become apparent that John was going to continue to be a part of her life for some time to come. She had remembered his distaste at wearing another man's clothing, as well as his habit of either ruining his own, or not wearing enough of them, so with that in mind as well as the dropping temperatures outside, she has stashed them in the drawer to await potential further use.

Apparently she was going to have to start doing this quite regularly.

She handed the sweatpants over to him. "Go ahead and change into these. I'll see if I have a shirt big enough for you."

Trying to act as nonchalant about the situation as was possible, she turned back around and walked over to her closet. Keeping her back turned while he changed.

She did her best to ignore the sounds coming from behind her, but it wasn't easy. She was reminded of the moment in the Atrium a few weeks ago, when she had walked in on him bathing, and the vividness of her memories were still very fresh.

Closing her eyes as she heard the slide of wet cloth peeling away from bare skin, she tried to ignore the visual of him removing those soaked pants. Tried to ignore the image of the perfection that was hidden underneath, and failing miserably. The more she tried the worse it became. She could only keep her back turned and try to focus on the task at hand instead of what was going on behind her… and ignore the sensation of his gaze burning all too knowingly into the slender line of her back.

Finally spotting an old cotton nightshirt of hers, she snatched it up and turned back around only when she knew enough time had passed for his legs to be encased once more in the new pair of pants… and for any flush to her cheeks to abate.

He was still working on unbuttoning his shirt when she walked back over, but she didn't mind. She'd seen him without his shirt on so many times, that although the view was stunning, she could know look at him without the risk of losing about 40 points of her IQ.

She placed the shirt on the corner of the bed closest to him, and looked around. Trying to figure out where on the floor she was going to set up a place for him to sleep relatively comfortable, when he finally finished opening the buttons running down the front of his shirt. The skin underneath showing as the clinging panels of wet fabric attempted to separate.

It was that flash of skin that caught her eye. How could it not? He was so beautiful, like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life, and she was a healthy, full-blooded woman in the prime of her life. But it wasn't the sight of that still slightly golden skin stretched over honed muscle that made her stare, or even the beads of moisture clinging to its surface, and sliding down over his flat stomach to soak into the dry waistband riding low on his hips.

It was the dark slashes of bruises that raced over that glorious skin. Marring its perfection with the heavy shadows pressed into his skin. A testament to the battered flesh underneath the un-torn surface, and the pain he had been forced to endure at his uncle's hands.

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	4. Chapter Four

**_Part One, Chapter Four_**

She must have made some sound in exclamation, because he halted his progress of trying to peel the shirt away, and turned his gaze questioningly towards her. Thunder echoing as to rolled outside.

She had seen the marks on his wrists a couple days ago, but she hadn't had a chance to study the ones on his chest. The sight literally made her heart ache.

The reason for her expression clicked with him, and she saw a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. Pain. 

Oh, she had seen pain in his eyes before, but this… this was different. Deeper. Uncomplicated by other emotions. Later she would hate Richard for putting that particular pain in his heart. Later she would hate that man even more than she had a few moments ago. But not now. Now she only wished for some way to erase that look from John's eyes.

He pulled the edges of his shirt back together. His expression changing to nothingness as he pulled his gaze from her. Attempting to hide.

"John," she whispered in denial. Eyes stinging at the way he tried to turn away from her. She stepped back over to him, the distance only that of a few feet. Her hands reach out to touch him in comfort, to get him to look at her, but he tried to evade her touch like he had in that alleyway a couple of days ago after the ambulance incident. She wasn't that easily put off this time, though, and she went after him. 

He turned back around to face her so suddenly that it was only because of the way he shackled her wrists in each of his hands that kept her from stumbling backwards. He held her hands there firmly. Mere inches from his body, but not letting her close that distance. His fingers were warm and still damp from the rainwater on his body as they pressed into her tender skin. She could feel the bruising strength running through them, even though he held her so carefully.

His eyes looked into hers, and she couldn't help the small gasp on her part. She wanted to turn away from the internal hell she saw reflected there, but she didn't. She couldn't. If he had to endure that much pain, than the least she could do was witness it.

She felt the tremors then that ran through his hands. Tears gathered in her eyes as a knot formed in her throat. He looked down at her, raw agony painted on his features, and she knew then why he had come to her tonight. She knew what had driven him almost to a point of madness that previous night when she had barely managed to stop him from killing his uncle. It was a hatred borne from a trauma that could never be explained. Not in words.

She was whispering his name repeatedly, and hardly even aware of it. With growing sorrow, she saw every humiliation, every cut, and every scar. She saw the wounds that only a brutalizing event could create, and she could see its still bleeding edges upon his psyche as surely as she had just seen the bruises upon his skin. 

That's why he had come to her. He had felt them. He had felt them bleeding, and had been lost on how to stop it. 

She twisted her wrists in gentle reminder, and he let them slide reluctantly through his fingers. Gently, ever so gently, she slowly peeled the shirt open. Knowing what it took for him to let her do it.

Biting her lip to keep her tears from falling, she pushed the shirt open further. Studying the bruises crossing over his chest caused by the leather straps he has been restrained with. 

The worst one cut over his upper pectoral muscles. That was the one he had strained against the hardest, and the skin was so dark a blue, it looked almost black. Time had not improved its coloring, and she knew it would look even worse as it went through the different color process over the next few days, before it ever looked better.  

The second ran over the lower section of his chest. Most noticeable where the skin and muscle had been ground harshly into the bones of his ribcage. A third line ran over his stomach, but was the palest of the three.

The tips of her fingers came to rest ever so gently his chest. Uncertain of where to touch him for fear she might accidentally hurt him. And it was only when he had reached out to touch her cheek that she realized that a tear had indeed managed to slip free. 

"I'm sorry, John." She whispered hoarsely. Voice breaking slightly. "I'm so sorry." She didn't know what else to say. What could she say? What could she say that could possibly ease the abuse heaped upon him by his uncle? If these bruises were an example of only a couple of days in his care, what had six months been like? It wasn't fair. None of this had been fair. John didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. Why couldn't his uncle see how wrong he had been in his treatment of his nephew? 

She looked back up to him, seeing how his eyes were now like the brilliant core of a flame as they shone with suppressed emotion. She reached a hand up to cup the side of his cheek as he exhaled shakily. Closing his eyes as he leaned into her palm. 

~*~ 


	5. Chapter Five

_Part One, Chapter Five_

Looking at him, watching his expression as he relaxed into the touch of her hand against his face, she remembered back to what he had told her that night in Central Park… how he hadn't regretted being captured by his uncle and subjected to his callousness, because it had brought him to her. Suddenly those words meant much more to her now then they had when she had first heard them.

John moved his head ever so slightly. Causing the skin of his cheek to rub abrasively against her palm. His eyes remained closed as he turned his face far enough into her hand that she could feel the warmth of his breath as it skittered over the tender underside of her wrist. His lips brushing over the speeding pulse point resting there just under the skin.

Her breath caught, and it was all she could do to not pull away from the burning caress of that mouth. It wasn't sexual, she snapped mentally at herself. He was seeking comfort, not sex. He needed the touch of hands that wouldn't try to hurt him. He needed to be close to her, because he needed that sense of safety that he seemed to develop when around her.

But when he opened his eyes and met her gaze, she knew her game of pretending that his contact hadn't affected her was up. With his enhanced senses, he could smell the sudden change in her body. The awareness that had begun to move through her. His mouth was still brushing over her pulse, and she could feel it now beating frantically against the soft finish of his bottom lip. Looking into his eyes and the way they suddenly darkened, she knew he could feel the speed in which her blood had begun to heat.

He became very still. Unmoving. The question lay unasked and unanswered between them. He was waiting for her to pull away. Waiting for her to run for the cover of her rules. But Jane couldn't force herself to break her gaze away from his. 

Moving his hand up slowly, he placed it over the back of hers carefully. Cradling it more firmly against the side of his face, watching her all the while for her response, eyes unblinking.

He was being so careful, she suddenly realized. He didn't know what she would expect from him, or what she would allow. And for the first time ever, she felt a pang of guilt over the confusing restrictions she had forced upon him. What harm would it have done to have let him touch her more? Be around her more? Was she not a strong enough individual that she couldn't have kept it from becoming more? Besides, if all he had wanted was to have sex, if that was the only instinct driving him to want to be close to her, then she would have had to fight off more severe advances a long time ago. 

He had been lost to the jungle at a very young age, one where memories of human touch had so very easily faded away in the whirlwind of passing time as he fought to stay alive in the most basic ways possible. Then, his first introduction back to human touch had been a painful one at the hands of his uncle. For six months he had been contained and treated like some animal. 

Could words ever express what he must have endured emotionally during such a time? She remembered the sight of him sitting on the floor in his 'room' back at Greystoke, rocking himself back and forth, and her throat tightened painfully just thinking about it. 

And then they had been brought together, and he had trusted her from the beginning? Why? If she lived to be a hundred, she knew she would never know that answer to that. But maybe… maybe the reason was similar to why she had, in turn, known she had to find him again. Knew she had to help him.

Although damned if she knew what that reason was. 

But still, knowing all of that even back then and what he had been through, she hadn't wanted him to touch her. Hadn't wanted to be forced to examine any closer the reactions he was capable of setting off inside her. 

So like a child she had run from it, never once truly acknowledging what that perceived rejection was costing him.

He was starved for human contact, one where there wasn't a fear of being hurt again. He'd been trapped in another world for almost his entire life, before being cruelly tossed back into this one.  They both had connected to one another, but her personal fears had cost them greatly. She had wrapped him up so tightly with her rules and beliefs that he had been left struggling to survive and desperately trying to figure out what to do to fill that aching void in his heart. 

She had crippled him without realizing it, and now… now he was testing her. Waiting patiently for whatever outcome.

She didn't deserve him. If the situation had been reversed, she doubted she would have been as patient as John had been the past few months.

But she wasn't going to run again. She wasn't going to pull away. Not this time. He needed to touch her… and whether she liked it or not, she needed to be touched. But moreover, she needed to erase that look of pain from his gaze. A pain that she now knew she had a hand in creating.

She had already asked him to trust her... but maybe it was time that she trusted herself.

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	6. Chapter Six

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_**Part One, Chapter Six**_

Thunder reverberated outside, the deep bass of its after-tones rattling the windowpanes as the rain continued to strike against them in a constant rhythm. John continued to study her, waiting for a refusal that would never come. She looked back at him. Heart still beating like a captured creature's, but her arm was relaxed. Her hand comfortable against the side of his face, with his fingers pressed over it, and stray, damp strands of his hair brushing over the tips.

Never taking his eyes from her, he turned his mouth to press it once again close to the underside of her wrist. Rubbing his lips against her skin once more, the tip of his tongue flicking out to taste her. Jane closed her eyes to the sight of what he had just done, swallowing against the tiny shock wave running through her body at the sensation. She then felt the edge of his teeth as he gently tested the skin over the fine tracery of veins and she shuddered at the contact.

Obeying his unspoken demand, she opened her darkening gaze to lock eyes with his once more. Battling to once again regain control over her body and somewhat succeeding.

His brow was furrowed slightly, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with her now. As if he wasn't sure just what exactly was happening. Neither was she. All that she knew however, was that she didn't want him to stop touching her. She didn't want to stop touching him.

"Jane?" his voice was hoarse. The tone indefinable. Putting into her eyes what she was feeling in her heart, she smiled reassuringly at him.

"Shh," She whispered. "Don't say anything. Just stay. Stay with me."

**_… Come to me now…_**

She wasn't even sure what it was she was asking of him, but for once, she forgot about thinking. About consequences, about her fear of commitment. She just reacted. And now… now all she wanted to do was what had been her first reaction upon seeing the bruises that crisscrossed over his chest.

Gently pulling her hand free even as she shifted closer, she brought the other up to meet it at his chest as her palms came to rest over his heart. Feeling it beating just as strongly as hers.

**_… And lay your hands over me…_**

Carefully, she grasped the edges of the wet shirt with her fingertips and slowly peeled them away. For the first time really, truly allowing herself to study the shape and contour of his upper torso. Her fingers brushing over his skin as she pushed the wet garment further and further back on his shoulders. The heat of his body a startling contrast.

Bringing her hands back to the middle of his chest, she traced the outlines of the tendons and muscles present just under the skin. Feeling them shift and ripple slightly under her fingertips. Her touch feathered over the top slash of marked flesh before slowly dropping down to rest on his sides. She chanced a glance upwards to see his expression.

They were only inches apart, and the fire in his gaze was so strong she could almost feel it crossing that distance and wrapping itself about her. Blanketing her. Coating her skin.

Dropping her gaze, and moving her head closer, she brushed the skin directly over the bruise with her lips, and listening to his sudden and harsh intake of breath at the simple contact. She knew it wasn't because of pain that he had reacted so.

Moving down just a fraction, she placed a series of slow, lingering kisses over that bruise. Wishing with all of her heart that her touch could erase it from his body.

She traced it soothingly with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the texture and taste of his skin in reciprocation to his earlier action. But despite her attraction to him, the caress wasn't sexual, at least not entirely. She knew the sensation of being restrained was still with him. Knew now that that was what had driven him to nearly kill Richard. He didn't like to be touched by others for fear of being restrained. She wanted him to know that not all touch was bad. Not all contact was painful. It was a lesson she should have given him a long time ago.

She felt his hand come up to cradle the back of her head tentatively, and only then did she pull her lips away from his chest to look back up at him. Only then was she aware of the tears staining her cheeks.

_**… Even if it's a lie, say it will be alright, and I shall believe…** _

An aching tenderness combined with an overwhelming hunger shone in his eyes. Making them burn brighter than the purest of flames that she had likened them to before. She had only seen his eyes truly this potent one time before, when they had last been in the Atrium, after she had interrupted his bath in the manmade waterfall.

It struck her how impossibly beautiful he was. How he was so many different things all at the same time. Tender and passionate. Innocent and feral. Dangerous and loving.

As if reading her thoughts, he brought her face closer to his. Carefully kissing away the tears, drinking them from her skin. His lips brushed over her closed eyelids and she shivered at the sensation. Fingers tightening reflexively on the sides of his waist as an unexpected blossoming heat began to spread through her body in reaction.

She was suddenly reminded of the night he had first come to her bedroom. That first time he had stood in front of her, eyes darkened with a knowledge he shouldn't have possessed, and her all too aware of what he had wanted, what he was offering.

She hadn't been prepared for him. For the intense way she would react. She had always been in control of every aspect of her life, but what he made her feel… it wasn't anything close to being in control.

Only Nikki unknowingly interrupting them had saved her. Stopped her from going to a place with John that would have been impossible to escape from. He wasn't a one night stand. He wasn't something casual. Whatever connection she formed with him would be permanent. Forever.

So the following morning, she had begun to build her walls into place, to keep that night from happening again. She'd found every excuse in the world to keep from falling back into his eyes and arms. But now her walls were crumbling. Shattered by the pain she had just seen in his eyes and the bruises on his body.

**_… I'm broken in two..._**

It was déjà vu all over again, and yet not. Now, she knew him. Knew him more than she had in those first several days. And despite what she wanted to tell herself, he was as much a part of her as the air she breathed. Call it destiny, fate, or God, but she now knew her path belonged alongside his. It may have taken her a little bit longer than him to come to this conclusion, but there it was. She was faced with a second chance of recapturing that night what seemed like ages before. With the opportunity to give it a different ending. The choice was right in front of her…

All she had to do was take it.

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So sorry for the long wait! Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter Seven

**_Part One, Chapter Seven_**

He was watching her. Waiting. Their faces only mere inches away. Her gaze fell to his lips and she thought back on all those times she had wanted nothing more than to press her own against them. To feel the soft texture of them against the tip of her tongue and have the taste of him flood her mouth. She wanted to make the first move, but a cold dart of fear suddenly shot through her. Causing her to catch her breath at its sharpness. What the hell was she doing? She couldn't do this. She couldn't close the distance between them and change their lives forever. She wanted to, but she just didn't know how. Old instincts and rationalizations battled to the surface, and all the assurances she had felt just a moment prior faltered.

She was the first young woman he'd ever really interacted with since childhood. It was to be expected he would feel the way he did towards her. Not because he loved her, or because they were soulmates, destined to be together. It was foolish to look at it from that angle. Foolish to think that a relationship between them could last. Foolish to honestly believe that one day when this world was no longer a new and uncertain place for him, that he would still want her in his life. Not when he would know himself to be the heir to a billion dollar fortune, with his pick of any of a thousand women far more suited to be in his life than her upon reaching that time.

No, she couldn't take advantage of him like that. Like this. He wasn't truly meant to be hers, not really. She had just played a small part in the making of the man he would become over the following years. Nothing more than a fond memory that he would be able to carry with him and drag out when he wished to entertain someone with the tales of his first year back from the jungle. And she was just going to have to be content with that. Nothing more. Never anything more. It was safer that way. Any other would just lead to heartbreak, because the only thing worse than not having him, would be to have him in that way, and then lose him.

She must have made some sort of move to pull away, or maybe he read the sudden doubt followed by determination, and recognized it as something he had seen in her expression time and time again over the past few months, but suddenly a tension ran through him, and he was holding her. Holding her in a way that she had not been prepared for.

Before she could protest, before she could even fully comprehend what was happening, John did something that he had never done before when they had found themselves in this position, with desire rising between them like a budding inferno, and her shields struggling to fall into place.

He took control.

With the sexual tension arcing between them almost as fiercely as the storm gathering strength outside, he pulled her to him. One hand remained cupped behind the back of her head, while the other dropped down to suddenly shackle her wrist in an unbreakable grip. The warm, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the tender, pale skin of the inside of her wrist. He took her arm by that wrist and twisted it gently but firmly behind her back even as he brought her firm up against him.

**_… And I know you're on to me..._**

A gasp emerged from her mouth as she felt the contact of him against her body. Felt the heat of him through the pants, and the sensation of the bare skin stretched out over his chest when she brought up her one free hand to try and… what? Push him away? Bring him closer? She didn't know what she was trying to do anymore.

She whispered his name, and the sound mingled with the increasing fast ricochet of the rain pounding the outside of the apartment building. An entreaty… a warning… whatever tone behind it didn't matter, for it didn't distract him from the sudden heat exploding in his gaze, or the slight parting of his lips. Jane could only stare up at him helplessly, as he bent slightly over her. Thunder rolling out in the night sky strong enough to make the entire room tremble. Only one thought echoed inside her head at that moment, and that was that it was happening. It was really happening. No second thoughts, no interruptions, nothing to save her from being caught in the expression in his eyes.

And then his lips were pressing into hers.

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Considering that the rest of the story's rating is going to go WAY up from here on out, I will not be uploading any more chapters here at To finish the rest of the story, you can do one of several things… You can either e-mail me for the remaining portion of the story, you can leave a review with your e-mail address included so I can e-mail it straight to you that way, or you can go to my bio page, scroll down to where I begin talking about my Tarzan fics, and follow the link to where the rest of the story is going to be posted online… In case you aren't sure about how to get to my bio, then scroll up to the top of this page, and below the title of this fic, you'll see where it lists me (Sapphira2) as the author. Click on the name, and it will take you to my bio page…

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